


A Witcher's Sensitivities

by tupti



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Caretaking, Explicit Consent, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage, Overstimulation, Sensory Overload, Soft Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23647534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tupti/pseuds/tupti
Summary: Geralt has been irritated all day. Luckily, Jaskier quickly realises what’s up.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 22
Kudos: 381





	A Witcher's Sensitivities

Geralt had stopped to make camp exceptionally early after they had left town. Jaskier hadn’t questioned it. He was just happy to put up his feet after walking miles and miles without a break. Usually, Geralt was mindful of his human need for rest, but today he had been spurring Roach on continuously.

As soon as they had stopped, the witcher started to gather firewood, but gave up on it after only collecting an armful of branches, then started to unpack their saddle bags instead. Halfway through that he stopped and turned to brushing Roach, only to pick up the wood again a few minutes later and continue building their camp fire. Jaskier watched all that in rising confusion.

‘Geralt, what are you doing?’

He gently touched the witcher’s shoulder, unprepared for the ferocity with which he turned around and slapped his hand away.

‘Don’t!’

In a gesture of surrender Jaskier held up his arms. ‘Sorry for caring.’ He backed away and sat down on his blanket. ‘Arse,’ he mumbled under his breath.

‘I heard that!’

Of course he had. Jaskier rolled his eyes and decided that he really didn’t have to deal with the witcher’s mood, whatever it was. So he picked up his lute and struck a chord, not even particularly forcefully. Still, Geralt almost jumped a mile high.

“Fuck! Jaskier! Stop with the noise!’

The bard was about to snap back, when he noticed Geralt’s eyes flitting wildly here and there, his fingers nervously curling and uncurling. He put down his lute and just the sound of the strings vibrating as it gently hit the ground made the witcher flinch.

‘Fuck.’ It wasn’t even a growl, just a resigned whisper.

A realisation dawned on Jaskier. He hadn’t been educated at Oxenfurt for nothing. True, medicine hadn’t been part of the seven liberal arts, but there had been this cute little red-head, he had dabbled with, who had had a similar problem now and again.

‘Sit down,’ he commanded.

Geralt glared at him, as if he had just banged pot and pans right next to his ear, so he lowered his voice.

‘Sit, Geralt. I think I can help you.’

The witcher hesitated, but managed to overcome his irritation at the prospect of maybe finding some relief, and sank down on his blanket. Jaskier joined him on the ground, leaving some space between them.

‘Close your eyes.’

He did.

‘Good, now concentrate on my voice and my voice only.’ Jaskier spoke as quietly as he could, trusting that the witcher’s superior hearing could pick up his words. ‘I think you might be experiencing sensory overload. Ever heard of it?’

Geralt shook his head slightly.

‘Your senses have been overstimulated. No wonder, considering your sensitivity and what was going on in that market square.’

It had been packed. The smell of a thousand different spices, sweating humans and city waste had been overwhelming, even for Jaskier. There had been chatter from countless mouths, market criers touting their goods, at least three troubadours trying to lure in an audience. The sun had beaten down bright and hot and people had continuously brushed them when squeezing past. For Geralt it had probably been a hell of a sensory experience.

‘Now, if you can bear for me to touch you, I can try something. But you might not want to be touched right now and that’s fine, too.’

There was a beat of silence. Geralt’s eyelids fluttered slightly, but then he wilfully screwed them shut again. ‘Go ahead,’ he mumbled.

So Jaskier took the witcher’s hands and applied soft pressure to his palms. When Geralt didn’t object to that, he started to rub circles with his thumbs.

‘Hmm.’

‘Want me to stop?’

Another beat.

‘No.’

Jaskier carefully watched Geralt’s face as he kept massaging his hands, gently squeezing each finger joint and tip, one after the other. Then he worked his way up to his wrists and forearms, dug his thumbs deep into tight muscles and ligaments. The frown on the witcher’s forehead slowly dissolved, his terse jaw relaxed, his breathing calmed down. He even dropped his chin to his chest, relinquishing every last bit of control.

After a while, his eyes fluttered open and he gently withdrew his arms from Jaskier’s hands. ‘Thanks.’

‘Feeling better?’

‘Yes.’ He tilted his head and searched Jaskier’s eyes. ‘How did you know?’

‘Well, my dear witcher, it might surprise you, but I’m not just a pretty face. Sometimes I know things.’

Geralt gave him a small, tired smile and Jaskier sighed.

‘For example: I know that what you need right now, is sleep.’

‘Hmm. I don’t think I can.’

‘Still a bit on edge, huh?’

The witcher nodded.

‘That’s alright. It helps if you have something or someone to hold on to.’ Jaskier looked up at him with a sheepish grin. ‘Could be, for instance, an astonishingly knowledgeable and handsome bard.’

Geralt huffed and shook his head, but couldn’t hide the amusement in his eyes. The irritation he had carried around with him all day was blown away and had left a deep exhaustion. So he did lie down on his blanket and raised one arm like an invitation.

‘If it helps.’

Jaskier’s face lit up. Quickly, he scrambled into the offered embrace to let Geralt wrap his arm around his back and pull him close.

With him at his side, it was only a matter of minutes until the witcher slipped into a calm and deep slumber.


End file.
